I Am Free
by Forest Archer
Summary: Spoilers for series 3 finale. Guy died expecting to find himself alone in whatever world came next. But in the end, even the truly bad may be redeemed.


Guy was afraid to open his eyes. Afraid that he would be greeted by raging fires, giant hounds and an eternity of torment. He half wanted to just lie there forever; it was so comfortable and so much better than knowing where he was.

Comfortable? How could Hell be comfortable? Oh, but it was. He was lying on something beautifully soft, silky, and he felt wonderfully warm - but not burning, for a light breeze brushed across his cheeks.

He opened his eyes.

And found himself looking up at a very familiar ceiling.

Guy sat bolt upright, gripping the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He was sitting on a bed. His bed, no less, in his home. In Gisborne, the lost estate, in the manor destroyed by fire. What was this? He knew he was dead in the same way that he knew his name and the colour of his hair.

This was a strange kind of death, though. He'd never expected to have a body after he died, but he did - and a clean one, too. His shirt was a snowy white, untouched by the blood he'd lost as he lay dying in that tunnel. His hair, when he touched it, hardly felt like his own - it was soft, smooth, quite unlike what he was used to. Yet the contours of his face were unchanged; he was the same as ever. He didn't _feel _dead.

Guy stood up cautiously, bare feet treading the floorboards slowly as though too fast a movement would make this vision of home fade away. But it remained, and he padded over to the open window - and stared out. He wasn't alone! Out on the grass below was a myriad of people, walking, dancing, laughing. And he knew every face.

How he knew them he wasn't sure. He'd scarcely had any friends in life, with good reason - but all of these people called out in greeting when they saw him, and their smiles were the likes of which he had never received before. These people... they liked him.

Children ran to and fro, playing games and hiding from their parents. No one, he noticed, was alone here - everyone, absolutely everyone, had someone. He smiled.

And then -- he froze, blinked, stared. There they were. His parents. His beautiful, wonderful mother, and his father strong as he had been before the war and the leprosy. They caught him looking and, smiling, waved up at him as though they had been expecting him. He held up a hand in return, and they walked on. For some reason, he wasn't surprised to see them. Perhaps he had always known they would be here. Isabella trailed behind them, a young girl as he remembered her from the days when she still had their mother's goodness. They were all here.

But one face was missing. Marian. Truly, he had loved her. If all the others he had ever loved were here, was it perhaps his final admission to Robin that kept her away? His acceptance that, unlike his family, she had never been his to love... And he wasn't upset by this as he would have expected. No, it felt right somehow that she was not here. She deserved better. And - he could finally accept this now in the place where he felt no pain - she deserved Robin.

The door creaked behind him, and Guy spun round to face a figure he had never again thought he would see.

She was even more wondrous in death, wearing a dress the colour of sunset. Her soft hair hung in perfect curls around her face, and her smile was a beatific one that he had before not seen nearly enough.

"Meg..." His voice sounded pure and rich in this world of dreams, but it was nothing compared to hers.

"Hello again, Guy." That smile was just for him.

"This is impossible." Two pairs of eyes met - one laughing, one hoping. "How can you be here? Is this even real?"

"I always quite liked you, remember?" She laughed, the sound like wind dancing through chimes, an echo of the past. "I knew I'd find you again. And yes, Guy, this is real. This is more real than life."

Guy could wait no longer. He ran to her, touched her, laughed and spun her round. This was more than real enough for him - and if it was not genuine reality, what did that matter to him? He set her down and kissed her, meeting the lips he had touched only once before for far longer this time. He scarcely knew her, but now he had eternity to. Because she had waited for him.

"How can this be?" he asked finally when they moved apart a little. "This must be heaven, and yet mine has been a life of sin. How can this be mine?"

Meg's hands caressed his face, his hair. "If you had been dying the same way just weeks ago, Guy, you would have kept the knowledge of the escape route to yourself. We both know it. And yet, as you died, you told your greatest enemy how he - and the peasants, Guy, the peasants you always hated - could survive." Meg shook her head, her eyes filled with joy. "You fought for good even when you had no cause to except for the sake of good itself. You have earned this, and now it is yours."

In this new world of death the truth was always spoken, and always known to those who heard it - and Guy was only too willing to accept her words. Perhaps, in the last, he had been redeemed - though he would know forever that it was Meg who had shown him the way.

And their reward was this place where hours passed in seconds yet forever always stretched out ahead. At long last, Guy of Gisborne truly found his home and his freedom, as a good man - a good man who finally had the true, requited love that he had come to deserve.


End file.
